


Memory Lane

by orphan_account



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily, F/M, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 15:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Dick Grayson finally begins to get his memories back and the first person he wants to see is Babs.It's always Babs.(Very mild DickBabs)





	Memory Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this at like 3 AM to appease my frustrations with Ric Grayson. Any errors in grammar will be fixed later.

There were things Dick Grayson remembered—memories he was certain weren’t there the day before. Long nights standing vigil over cities teeming with crime. Plates of waffles that tasted like paste.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t nearly as perturbed by those sudden flashes of his past as he thought he’d be. They felt more real than anything had in a long while. Comforting, like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. He wasn’t entirely sure why; whether it was the relief of knowing or a simple sense of contentment over finally belonging somewhere. But he felt _good_.

It took him a while before he realized he wasn’t even referring to himself as Ric anymore. He’d called Alfred to check up on his family—who he guiltily remembered cutting out of his life months before—only to say, “Hey, Alfie. It’s Dick,” the second the older man picked up. At some point, old habits had won out without him noticing. It was an entirely natural change for him, almost as if he’d known himself that way his entire life. And, in a way, he had.

Even after he’d hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, he could still practically hear the shock in Alfred’s voice. A nagging voice in the back of his mind wondered if his family thought he’d been a lost cause. _Or maybe_ , said the voice, _they simply hadn’t cared enough_.

Dick thought it sounded an awful lot like Jason.

He forced those thoughts away, instead focusing on the one person he was sure cared about him: Barbara. The same girl he’d found on his front porch steps once, who practically begged him to let her help. Who had his back even when he didn’t have hers. _Barbara_.

Memories of Robin and Batgirl bubbled to the surface of Dick’s mind. Midnight motorcycle rides through city streets. Enough cheesy puns and jokes to make someone’s eyes roll all the way back into their skull. She was kind and incredibly thoughtful, and probably the smartest woman he’d ever known. Someone needed to tell her that—he should've been telling her that.

Was he always this much of a sentimentalist? Probably. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind. Not even when his internal praise of a woman he barely knew led him right to her doorstep.

 _Strange_ , he thought, as he stood at the bottom of the front stoop of her apartment building. He was almost certain he hadn’t known her address—let alone what part of Gotham she lived in. Yet, as if on autopilot, he’d found her. In a city of millions, no less.

Before he could muster up the courage to bound up the steps and ring the buzzer, the front door opened. Shrugging on his leather jacket, Jason Todd stepped outside and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it in a way that left his white streak slicked back. If he was at all surprised to see his brother, he didn’t show it. “Dick,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

What was he doing there? Dick couldn’t remember whether or not his little nuisance of a brother had ever had much of a friendship with Barbara, but it didn’t feel entirely right. Seeing him stepping out of her apartment was almost wrong. It felt so unnatural.

“Alfred mentioned you might be a little less frazzled upstairs,” Jason continued, after a moment of uninterrupted silence. He started down the steps, stopping at the bottom and turning to lean against the handrail. “Babs doesn’t know yet, by the way. We weren’t too sure how Dickish you actually were. Figured we shouldn’t set her up for any more disappointment.”

Dick thought back to all the times Barbara had tried to talk to him after he’d been shot. Surely she’d been upset by how he continued to push her away, no matter how hard she tried. It couldn’t have felt all that great. After knowing him for so long, it must’ve been a letdown.

Would she be disappointed to see him now? Would this progress—however much he’d actually made—be enough for her?

“Go see her, Grayson,” Jason encouraged. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any scorn to his tone; he sounded almost sympathetic. And then he was gone, strolling down the street with a careless gait, whistling the melody of I Feel Pretty from West Side Story. Only once did he pause, glancing back at his brother over his shoulder. “And when you’ve got everything figured out, go see our family. God knows they’ve missed you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dick wasn’t sure how long his fingers hovered over the call button to Barbara’s apartment. It felt like an eternity of second-guessing and what-ifs. _What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s angry at me for turning her away?_ None of these thoughts were getting him anywhere, he knew.

Taking a deep breath, he swallowed his fears and rang the doorbell.

At first, there was nothing. Not even the sound of footsteps on the staircase. And then, just as he was beginning to think she’d never answer his call, the speaker by the door crackled to life. “Jay, is that you?” Barbara asked, her voice sounding slightly distorted. Even in a fractured, almost incomplete state, it was still the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “If you left your gun here again, you’re not getting it back.”

This was it. A moment he’d unwittingly been waiting for for months on end. “Hey, Babs,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s me. It’s Dick.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by another long period of silence. And then he heard the telltale buzzing sound of the front door being unlocked. He yanked it open so quickly that it slammed into the handrail, leaving a little dent in the metal. Dick barely paid it any mind as he stepped inside and wiped his shoes on the doormat.

What apartment did Barbara live in, again? He didn’t quite recall, but he was positive it wasn’t on the ground floor. So he made his way over to the rickety staircase, bounding up it two steps at a time. It creaked and groaned with every step he took and had it been any other occasion, he would’ve worried about disturbing other residents. At that moment, however, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He ran up one flight. And then another. And then—

Skidding to a halt on the third landing, he stared wide-eyed at the woman standing before him. She had her hair swept over the left shoulder of her oversized GCPD hoodie, loose and unkempt. Just beneath her tired green eyes were two dark circles, an almost violent shade of purple against her pale skin. “Hi,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure.

“Hey,” Dick replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he slowly rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m, uh...I...” he trailed off, clearing his throat in an attempt to clear some of the awkwardness. “Hey.”

Barbara stared at him as though she was trying to read him, her fingers curling an uncurling as she tried to process what she was seeing. Logically, she must’ve known this day would come. Even if she hadn’t. she’d surely hoped for it enough. Even so, believing in something wasn’t the same thing as seeing it. “You said that already,” she reminded him. Gesturing to the open door beside her—her apartment—she forced a smile. “Do you wanna come in?”

Wordlessly, Dick nodded, following her into her living room. It was different than he last remembered it being. A new black leather couch sat pushed up against the farthest wall, directly across from a tv that was so massive and excessive he was sure it had been a gift from Bruce. On the coffee table sat piles of case files. One was open, its contents spilled out across the glass tabletop. A picture of a little girl. A missing person’s report. A _death certificate_.

Rushing forward, Babs grabbed all of the photos and papers and tucked them neatly back into their rightful folder. Carefully, so as not to create a mess, she slipped the file back into one of the massive stacks. “You don’t need to worry about any of that right now,” she told him firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Tim and I have been sharing caseloads recently. I know it seems like a lot...”

That was an understatement. There must’ve been at least fifty different cases sitting on Barbara’s coffee table. Maybe more.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said suddenly, taking a seat on the couch and folding his hands in his lap.

Babs frowned at that, watching his every movement like a hawk. Concern flashed in her eyes, but as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. “Oh?” she asked, sitting down on one of the faded blue armchairs she’d had since college. “What for?”

“For everything,” Dick replied, lowering his stare toward the carpet beneath his feet. “I was cruel to you. I shut you out when all you wanted to do was help me and I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Leaning forward, Barbara reached out and gently put her hand on top of his. “Look at me,” she prompted, waiting for him to comply before continuing. “You weren’t you. I can only imagine how frustrating that would be; to wake up one day and not remember who you were. The things you did? I don’t hold them against you.”

“You should,” Dick insisted, holding her gaze despite how incredibly shameful it made him feel.

“But I don’t.” Without warning, Babs stood and moved to sit beside him on the couch. She was so close to him then that he could feel the heat radiating off of her body. Every time she moved, her shoulder brushed his ever so slightly, sending a jolt of what he could only describe as electricity running down his arm. “And I know you,” she said, “which means I know you won’t let this go until I say it. So here goes nothing” Her next words were so quiet they were barely above a whisper. “I forgive you.”

She was pulling him to her then, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. When she rested her chin on his shoulder, he could smell her shampoo—lilac, or something floral he couldn’t place. Slowly, he returned the hug, holding her closer than he’d held her in a long time. Even before he’d been shot, he couldn’t recall the last time they’d been this close. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Pulling back, Barbara repositioned herself on the couch so that she was kneeling on the cushion. She reached up, cradling his face between her hands as she leaned forward and affectionately kissed his forehead. “I know. You’re not so bad yourself, Boy Wonder.”

It didn’t matter then, how much time they’d been apart. They quickly fell back into their familiar, comfortable routine. Only now, Barbara occasionally had to remind him of things he hadn’t quite remembered yet. Like his best days as Robin, or how exactly they’d come to know each other in the first place. And, for the first time since he’d been hurt, he listened.

“Hey, Dick?” Babs asked later that night, as she laid across the couch with her head in his lap.

“Yeah?” he replied, lightly combing his fingers through her hair the way she’d always seemed to like. He was gentle with her in a way he reserved specifically for her—it brought about an almost foreign feeling of content after months of being harsher than he’d ever been comfortable with. 

“I missed you.”

This time, he didn’t respond. That was all. That was everything. Nothing else needed to be said because, at that moment, they had each other again for the first time in a long while.

And that was all that mattered. 


End file.
